


Lady Liberty, Whore of the West

by salarta



Category: 19th Century CE RPF, 21st Century CE RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Bestiality, Exhibitionism, Inanimate Object Porn, Inanimate Objects, Inanimate Objects Animated, Other, Rape, Statue Sex, Statues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-21
Updated: 2012-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salarta/pseuds/salarta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an age when money equals power, the Statue of Liberty is forced to whore herself to the highest bidder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lady Liberty, Whore of the West

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic on a whim based on an advertisement I saw that said the Statue of Liberty gets sad when you hang "Made in China" on her back. It has no real motivation behind it other than that. Finding a good category was difficult, to say the least.

In another era, she was a beacon of hope. Her torch, her tablet and her vigil watch on Liberty Island were symbols of promise in a land often called the New World. She stood tall and proud off the shores of New York, greeting immigrants from all walks of life with the light and warmth of freedom and democracy.

That was another era. In this newer, money-driven one, she provided a much different warmth to the world.

Her newly burning torch, buried deep inside her twat, softened her green copper skin. Her hands gripped her poured concrete pedestal, once the platform of her power, while her bare toes dug into the edges of her monument's eleven-pointed star foundation. Her chains, the same broken chains meant to stand for her escape from the evils of tyranny and oppression, stretched short yet heavy, reforged and welded from her former stand to thick cuffs at her wrists. They restrained her, a symbol of her people, her every ascent defeated by the length of her tight bonds.

This was her place now, dropped to all fours, bent over with her bare ass raised high for the dicking her owners so craved to her once respected, dignified form. The last of her flimsy, delicate robe tore away in the teeth of her current mate. She looked back into its cold, gleaming bronze eyes.

"Remember when your people used to call my city the Whore of the Orient? Who's the whore now?"

The Shanghai Bull. It was tiny and weak compared to her, a miniscule eight feet tall and eleven feet long stampeding across all 111 feet of her... but size mattered little in the modern age, an age of numbers and coins. The bull was new to China, but she remembered the time of her own creation, when her country rose from a band of colonial farmers with pitchforks toward the great prosperity of a short-lived American era. Built by the French, the Statue of Liberty recalled a time of ideals, when good men joined forces for the greater good, for inherent freedoms of speech and religion, on the long and turbulent road toward a land where all men and women could call themselves equal.

Those freedoms blew away like ashes to the wind in an era of money-bought power. Her ball gag muffled her protests. Her hot, angry frustrations with her new way of life fumed out her nostrils as the small Shanghai statue snorted into her lower back. The bull grew larger, its booming economy adding to the mass it forced upon her, towering to equal her in size. Her eyes bulged, her brows slanting to a worried crinkle at her forehead as the bull's newly enlarged dick plunged into her tight, wincing anal bud.

"Hey, Bitch of Liberty, did you know my people stroke my dick for good luck? You should thank me, I'm pumping your ass with good fortune!"

Sacks of gold, hanging from the Shanghai Bull's horns, sloshed metallic in Liberty's ears. She was nothing. A slut, a prostitute, spreading her legs to the strongest, richest beast in the world at the urging of her corporate pimps. Her tablet of values and virtues buried in the sandy shores of her secluded island, forgotten, discarded, a nuisance to the pleasures sought by her many wealthy suitors eager to fuck her ass loose and raw. Her giant green tits, sagging slight and graceful from her chest, smacked her nose every time the bull slammed full force into her thick, jiggling rear. As sunlight glimmered over the rays of her pointed crown, she caught a bright flash in the corner of her eye. She glanced aside, grunting into her gag at another ripping ram by her mate, and froze as she saw the ship passing her island on its way to New York.

People. A melting pot... no, a tossed salad of people. New arrivals in the former Land of the Free. On the deck of the ship, they gawked, stared and pointed at her, gasps and laughs rising from their small voices as they took pictures of her. Bent over and weak, she could do nothing but display her pathetic cowed self to them, her body laid ravaged and bare, a symbol of the new way of life in her lands.

In a matter of minutes, the Shanghai Bull came. Its golden seed shot deep inside her, swelling to dribble out around its bronze shaft. Sweat beaded from her pasty skin, mingling with bull spunk down her legs to coat her fertile land with the sticky, sparkling evidence of her defeat. She fell, used, her big boobs mashing into her pedestal as her bulk smashed upon her island. Waves rushed up from her shores, swirling and shoving boats of new arrivals back to sea. As the bull pulled out of her aching hole, Liberty cast her head down, peering into the horizon from between her heaving cleavage and tired, trembling thighs.

She saw them, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free, taking one last look at her slutty farewell of an upraised, cum-leaking ass waving at them as their ships embarked for better lands. In her giant ears, she could hear their tales of her new status to the world: Lady Liberty, Whore of the West, her pretentious 'enlightenment' stuffed firmly up her cavernous cunt and her loose, 'free' ass open for business to any wealthy takers.

She was too weak to resist when she felt the sign stamp into her back by the Shanghai Bull's mighty hooves. It weighed upon her, a garish square label hammered by force to her copper flesh. It took all her strength to rise and wrap her legs around her pedestal, wincing as her torch jammed deeper inside her loins, the price of granting herself a better view. She looked over her shoulder to her reflection in her surrounding sea. She stared at the title of ownership emblazoned on her back, its gold letters sparkling against its imperial red background. 

Made in China.


End file.
